The Benefits of Helping God
by thoughtyouknewr
Summary: God offers Sam a way to fix everything; he is to go back in time and stop the apocalypse before it can start. Now he has to deal with three angels being randomly overprotective, stop the world from ending, and not get John and Dean suspicious. At 12. Fun.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own supernatural and never will. The same goes for the rest of the story. **

**WARNINGS!: some swearing 'cause this is Supernatural. Maybe some OOCness, but we don't really know what the Winchesters were like before Sam left for college, so maybe not. Some _major_ cuddling cause I just can't resist. Cuddling starts next chapter, just FYI. **

Chapter 1 Second Chances and their Prices

The cage was eternal torture. Sam knew that was why it was created, but that didn't make it any easier to bear. Dear sweet Lord, Michel was coming now, and he had a whip…..

And then he was awake. Sam blinked and looked around. He was fairly sure he hadn't gone to sleep in the giant king sized bed he was currently sitting on, so he was instantly alert. He jumped off the bed only to come face to face with….

"Chuck?" Sam asked in surprise.

"No, he is only the form I chose to take. I find it amusing to impersonate my own prophets," the man responded.

"So….you're _God_?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Come now Sam, surely you of all people would recognize me for what I am. I did visit my sons during their grounding to the cage. They still have a couple hundred billion years in there and I'm watching them to make sure they don't break their groundings this time." God frowned. "I was most displeased with Lucifer over that. And the way Michel help him was most unacceptable. Not to _mention _the fights they got into. Honestly, they're brothers!"

"Um…." Sam said, feeling very awkward. What he supposed to say to that? God was talking about Michel and Lucifer trying to end the world like it was nothing more then the antics of unruly teenagers.

"More like naughty children," God corrected absently, obviously knowing what Sam was thinking. "They _are_ my children. They seem to have forgotten that though. Even Castiel has forgotten who the daddy is, and he's my baby. My children have gotten extremely out of hand, and I want you to help me fix that, Sam Winchester."

"How-how do you want me to do that?" Sam asked incredulously. "They aren't going to listen to me."

"Not in this time, no, but I don't want you to just fix what they've already done. I want you to go back and stop them from doing it in the first place," God informed him.

"What?" Sam asked.

"If you agree to do what I want, I will send you back into your twelve year old body. You will have all the intelligence you have now, but you will be twelve. I don't mean just deaged to twelve either. No; you will actually be in 1995 again. Your daddy and brother will be alive and happy. Well, as happy as your daddy and brother ever get," he added the last bit as an after thought.

"But I don't understand; how will that help you reign in your children?" Sam asked.

"Well, I plan on sending Castiel, Balthazar, and Gabriel as they were before they died back with you. They will have renewed faith in their daddy. The three of you will then take a year of rest, because I know all of you need it badly. After that I will raise all the highest level demons."

Sam sucked in a breath. That sounded like the beginning of the apocalypse all over again.

"You, Castiel, Balthazar, and Gabriel will travel around killing these demons. That way Michel will never get the stupid idea that he can even possibly free his brother from his grounding. He never _could_ stand to see Lucifer get punished. Didn't like it that his baby brother sometimes deserved a good spanking," God sounded thoughtful.

"I haven't the slightest idea where he got the notion that I would want him to fight his brother. He knows the Bible was written by a bunch of blasphemous fools."

Sam remembered Castiel saying something to that effect once.

"What's the price?" Sam asked.

"Excuse me?" God questioned.

"What's the price?" Sam repeated. "This type of thing never happens without a price.

"Ah, well, I suppose there are a couple things," God shifted uncomfortably.

Sam sighed. "Of course. So what are they?" he inquired resignedly.

"Well, for one thing I would have to cleanse your body (your twelve year old one) of the demon blood Azazel gave you."

"I fail to see why that would be a bad thing," Sam said blankly.

"Normally it would mean that you would have to give up your physic powers," God answered.

"Not a bad thing either. Though I do admit having those powers would be useful in killing Lilith and all the others all over again….."he added the last part after a seconds pause.

"Yes, and that brings me to the second thing that you would have to do. You are aware that humans are all my children too, are you not?"

Sam had a sudden flash back of Dean in a priests outfit saying "we're all God's children."

"Yes, I've heard that," he confirmed for God.

"That wasn't just a saying. You are all literally my children. You all have angel DNA in you, and that's how natural physics get their power."

"Your angel DNA lays dormant in your body unless _I_ chose to activate it, or one of my little angels possess you. Even then not all your angel DNA is activated. You would be the first human I had ever given full accesses to their all their DNA," God explained.

"This would mean, in effect, that you wouldn't be human anymore. You would be more half human half angel. And you would be powerful beyond any comparison. You think cambians are powerful, just wait until you see what you're going to become."

"But I don't know if I want that!" Sam cried. "I think I've already proven several times over that power is my weakness."

"Oh come now; are you talking about Ruby and your addiction to demon blood? You know that wasn't your fault, Sam. I still don't understand why you insist on taking the blame for Ruby drugging you and then getting you addicted through a needle," God dismissed.

"I was the one that let her into my house. I could've and should've killed her the moment I saw her, but _nooooooo_ I had to trust her just because she'd saved my life before. You know I didn't even notice that she was sedating me ever night before I went to sleep? I didn't even notice that I was having a hard time disobeying her!" Sam ranted. He had needed to get this off his chest for a long time.

He had never told Dean about it because he was pretty sure Dean would've forgiven him, and he didn't deserve that. If he had just fought a little bit harder then who knows what could've happened?

"You didn't know," God scolded. "She entered your house as a friend, slipped sleeping pills in your food, injected you with demon blood, and continued the next day as though she had done nothing wrong. She knew once you were addicted to her blood you would be addicted to her. You couldn't disobey her _because_ you were addicted to her."

"It was you who fought off all the urges once you were in your right mind. It was you who held Ruby captive while your brother stabbed her. You are more than qualified to hold this power," he finally wound down from his very Dean like lecture.

Sam wasn't sure, but thought it best not to argue with God.

"That's where your year of rest comes in too. I want you to take this year for Castiel, Balthazar, and Gabriel to train you in the usage of angel powers. You know how to use demon powers, but not angel ones," God ordered

"You will have to find a way to hide all this from your father and brother too, of course. I don't want them knowing you've come back in time until you've already killed all the demons. Heaven knows they won't take their eyes off of you if they think you might try to pull something," he finished fondly.

Oh Sam knew _all_ about how overprotective his father and brother had been when he was younger. By the time he was eighteen and had left for collage it had worn off completely for his father, and most of the way for his brother. When he was twelve, however, he was lucky to get a full hour alone _ever_. It would be extremely hard to hide it from his dad, let alone Dean.

But wait; wasn't Dean going with him?

"What do you mean I have to hide it from Dean? Isn't Dean coming with me?" he voiced his thoughts.

God winced. "No, I'm afraid I have to leave Dean behind. He has never had any powers to speak of, so he will never be able to control angel powers. Your angel powers are what's going to keep you alive through the time travel and merging with your younger body," God answered softly. "You would have the younger version of your brother, of course, but that's the third and last price you would have to pay."

Sam was stunned into silence. He had never done well without Dean. Sure, there was the one time he tried to take a break from hunting and had managed to fight of the hunters trying to feed him demon blood, but other then that he sucked without Dean. That was what had gotten them into this mess in the first place. He was lost without his big brother to watch over him.

"No it isn't,' God said sharply. "I have already informed you that it wasn't your fault that Ruby injected you, and you certainly fought hard enough against it. Besides, Castiel, Balthazar, and Gabriel will be watching over you this time; they won't let you get off track."

"No offence," Sam tried, "but I don't exactly trust any of them very much at the moment. Castiel opened purgatory and let out the leviathans, Gabriel had made me watch Dean die hundreds of times, and I've been on Balthazar's _people to kill_ list before. That was before Castiel killed him of course."

"That was before you were their newest baby brother," God told him flippantly as though this didn't matter. "I have found my sons to be amazingly protective of their youngest brother. Why do you think Balthazar agreed to help Castiel with whatever he needed?"

"Hold it, back it up a few steps; baby brother?" Sam asked.

"Yes. I'm turning on your angel DNA, meaning you're going to _be_ an angel. The most powerful angel of all actually. More powerful even then Michel. This will make you an angel as much as the cambian's powers made him a demon. You will enjoy the benefits of being both human and angel. You will have emotions like a human, but powers like an angel," God clarified.

"So I'm Heaven's newest baby angel?" Sam queried, somewhat dazed.

"If you say yes, then you will be," God assured him. "Take some time to think now. Chose carefully because there is no turning back once you have chosen."

So Sam thought. He thought about his father's death. He thought about Dean's many deaths. He thought about Pamela, Caleb, Joshua, Pastor Jim, Jo, Ellen, and countless others who were killed during or before the apocalypse. He thought about the many innocents brutally slaughtered while breaking the seals, even more killed after that. He thought about all the people who were going to be killed by the latest threat of the leviathans. He knew what his choice had to be.

"I'll do it," he resolved, looking up at God. "I'll go back and change everything. I won't let all those people die. I won't let Lucifer out of his cage, and I won't let Michel try and help him out of it. The stupid dicks can just deal with things the way they are."

There was a fiercely determined look on his face.

"Now now," God chided teasingly with a big grin on his face, "it isn't nice to call your older brothers names. Oh, and by the way, I'm leaving you a surprise, but it won't get there until May of 1996. You might try visiting Baby Brother on the first of May. Just a thought."

And then he was gone. In his place were Castiel, Balthazar, and Gabriel. Great; this was _exactly _what Sam needed.

**So….thoughts? This fic has been bothering me for awhile, so I decided it was time to write it out. **


	2. Chapter 2 Siblings of All Kinds

**I don't own supernatural.**

**I'm going to warn you right now that the next two chapters are pretty cuddly. There are a couple reasons for that, some of them mentioned, some not, but mostly just because I _adore _cuddling. If that's not your cup of tea you probably won't enjoy this very much. Don't say I didn't warn you.**

**The angles might seem a little ooc here, but this is how I picture them with family. Especially Gabriel, since he never really liked Sam all that much, but we all saw how much family means to him in "Changing Channels" so I don't know. **

**BTW, is anyone else having problems with their fanfic accounts? Mine sometimes won't even let me log in.**

Chapter 2 Angelic Siblings

Sam!" Castiel was the first to gasp out his name. "Your brother was looking for you when I couldn't hold them back anymore! Did he find yo- where are we? What happened to you? Your soul is different then it was before."

"You know I am so pissed at you right now Cassie," Balthazar said angrily. "Why did you have to go and kill me?"

"Ahhhhhh! No! I promise I won't call you Lucy anymore!" Gabriel yelled. Everyone turned to stare at him. He finally looked up. "Where am I?" he asked.

"Umm…I had actually thought he would explain all of this to you before he brought you here. Guess he's leaving that to me," Sam sighed.

All three of the older angels instantly fixed their attention on him.

"Why do they always have to be so damn cute when they're little?" Gabriel asked half under his breath.

"Not _another one_," Balthazar sighed. "I thought Dad was done after Cas. Why did he have to go and make an even cuter one? I didn't even think that was possible."

"What are you talking about?" Castiel asked.

"Cas, meet your new baby brother," Gabriel sighed. "I've seen enough of Dad's tricks to know this has to be his doing. Means he's alive, doesn't it?"

"Baby….what?" Cas asked, obviously extremely confused. "I do not have any baby brothers; only older ones."

Balthazar and Gabriel ignored him, focusing instead on Sam. "Yeah, it was God."

"Dad. Probably still Daddy at your age," Gabriel corrected absently.

"…..Right….._Anyway_ he's sending all of us back in time to the bodies we were in when I was twelve. We're supposed to take a year for training and then he's going to raise all the highest level demons for us to kill. I can't tell Dean or Dad, so he sent you to help. I think he also said it would be a renewal of your faith in him."

'Yeah, well, it's kind of hard not to believe in someone who's sent you back in time and given you a new baby brother. How did he do that anyway? I didn't know it was possible to turn a human into an angel," Balthazar said.

Castiel's gasp again went ignored.

"He said that all humans are born with angel DNA, but I'm to first one to ever have this DNA fully accessed," Sam answered carefully. He was still wary around all three of the angels.

"So you are an angel now?" Cas asked in wonderment. "I am finally an older brother?"

"_Yes,_ Castiel, you're an older brother now," Balthazar said with exaggerated patients. "I must say that I am _very _angry at you though. What led you to believe that it was ok to kill me?"

"I don't know," Castiel said, his eyes lowered.

"He was tired of the war. Can't say I blame him," Sam answered for his newly christened big brother. "He saw a way he thought he could stop the war, and he took it. It just didn't turn out like he thought it would." His eyes were sad, remembering when he himself had done the same thing.

"Hey now, don't get upset," it was Gabriel showing a side of himself that Sam thought few had ever gotten to see.

He got the feeling that family meant everything to Gabriel. Frankly he had gotten that idea years ago when he first learned Gabriel was an angel.

The way he had talked about how Lucifer and God had fought reminded Sam of how Dean talked about him and his father fighting. Sam knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Dean would do anything for his family, so it naturally followed that Gabriel would do anything for his family.

Sam hated being twelve, he really did. At twelve he had been so much still a child. He had seen horrible things, and come out scared by the experience. He was traumatized and emotional for _years_ after his first hunt at eight and a half. It hadn't helped that the hunt had been a particularly blood thirst Demon that specialized in distorting emotions either.

John and Dean had pulled back from that much easier then Sam had. San thought this was partially because they were so much older, and partly because he was much more sensitive.

He found himself scooped into Gabriel's arms (another horrible thing about being twelve was his tiny height) and wanted to protest, but found he could do nothing more then burry his head in Big Brother's shoulder and cry.

He cried for leaving Dean. He cried for the pain of Hell. He cried for Jo, Ellen, Ash, Pamela, Caleb, Pater Jim, Joshua, and his own _father_. He cried for his innocence, lost at such a young age. Lost so much earlier then even his father and brother knew.

He cried out everything he had bottled up before, and he did it all on the shoulder of a man he had hated just a few short years ago. On the shoulder of a man who had been _dead_ a few short minutes ago.

Stupid twelve year old body!

When he finally managed to pull himself together he found he actually felt much better. Sure, he was exhausted, but he felt the burden of unshed grief lift off of him. He had a second chance, and this time he was making sure _no one_ got killed.

He lifted his head from Gabriel's shoulder to find the man making funny crooning noises at him while stroking his free hand through Sam's hair. Balthazar was standing next to them, rubbing Sam's back, and Castiel was on their other side, looking supremely awkward.

"Better?" Gabriel asked tenderly. It seemed God (Daddy, as a Gabriel-like voice in his head was insisting) was right about overprotective older brothers.

Sam nodded, rubbing his eyes and sniffling as he wound down.

"Sorry," he whispered as he tried to squirm his way down.

Gabriel simply tightened his hold, effectively putting an end to that line of action. "For what?" he questioned quietly.

"Well for one thing I got you all wet," Sam said with a wrinkled nose. "For another, I doubt you precisely enjoy dealing with crying twelve year olds."

"You see," Balthazar broke in, "his shirt will dry; that's the beauty of water."

"And besides, you're not the only one who's ever cried on my shoulder. I have _hundreds_ of younger siblings. I'm quite used to dealing with them upset. Though I admit they're normally upset about much more trivial things, such as 'Balthazar stole my hair brush', or 'Castiel's _still_ talking like an old man'."

"It isn't my fault I needed a brush to take care of my gorgeous hair," Balthazar whined.

"I do not speak like an old man," Castiel protested.

Sam actually giggled. Not on purpose, mind you, but he still giggled.

This set the three older men laughing too.

"So, our mission is to take a year's rest, then kill a bunch of badass demons?" Balthazar confirmed.

"Yeah. During the year of rest I'm supposed to figure out how to work the whole angel mojo stuff," Sam added shyly. "And I was thinking I might do some research on the demons so we could kill them by burning their bones if we got the chance."

"That is a good idea," Castiel acknowledged. "Do you have any ideas about how to use your angelic powers?"

"No," Sam admitted. "Daddy said you might be able to help with that." The name had slipped out. It wasn't a conscious decision on his part; it just happened.

"Of course Baby Brother," Gabriel assured him. "Angelic magic and demonic magic are very different."

"How're we going to meet, though?" Sam asked. "Dean and my father won't let me out of their sight long enough for me to take a run around the block by myself, let alone meet with three angels and learn magic."

"That's easy," Balthazar assured him. "We'll simply sneak in through your dreams."

"What?" Sam asked.

"Like Anna did to Dean when she asked for you to meet her," Castiel supplied.

"Oh," Sam said in enlightenment.

"Yes, 'oh'," Gabriel laughed, poking Sam on the nose. "Did anyone ever bother to tell you how adorable you were when you were younger?"

Seeing Sam's bemused face he sighed.

"I guess not. Oh well; now you know," he shrugged.

"You need to be getting back now; I don't think it's going to be at all pleasant to wake up as a twelve year old at first. There might be some side effects," Balthazar deliberated worriedly.

"I'll be fine," Sam dismissed; he was always fine.

"Alright then," Gabriel sounded unsure. "We'll visit again on Sunday. It's Thursday now."

"Alright," Sam sighed. "See you then." And then they were gone, and he was waking up in a world of pain.

Sam was thrashing about, pain dulling everything else. His brother's cries of sudden fear seemed far away. His head felt like it was going to burst.

This lasted for about ten seconds before the pain slowly seeped away and he was able to understand what Dean was shouting.

Sam sat bolt upright. "Dean!" he cried, throwing himself at his big brother.

Dean caught him easily. "What _happened,_ Sammy?" he asked. "You were trashing around and screaming like someone was murdering you."

"Nightmare," Sam muttered into his brother's shoulder. "Where's Daddy?" he asked. He could practically _feel_ Dean's alarm growing.

"He went out for research tonight, remember?" he asked gently.

"Want him. Want you too," Sam begged.

"I'm not going anywhere, Baby Brother," Dean assured him. "Let's call Daddy." Dean did not normally call John "daddy". Sam could only guess he was doing it because Sam was so upset.

He stood from the bed with Sam in his arms and moved towards the phone on the desk in the corner.

There was the sound of a key in the lock of the apartment. Dean stopped moving instantly and pulled a knife out his back pocket with his free hand. They weren't in the room the front door opened into, so Sam figured Dean thought they should wait to see who it was before they hid.

He stood in the middle of the motel room with Sam in his arms as the door opened. Both boys relaxed when their father's giant silhouette was shown in the door.

Their father walked silently into their room, presumably to check on them before heading to bed himself.

"Dean?" John asked. "I thought I told you two to go to bed," he stated disapprovingly.

"We did," Dean insisted. "We slept until Sammy had a nightmare and-"

Sam chose this moment to interrupt and get his brother out of trouble. "Daddy!" he cried, stretching his arms towards the man. He made himself look as pitiful as he could, not a hard task with tears dripping down his cheeks and a trembling bottom lip.

He should be given an award for his acting. Though some of it _was_ left over from the pain of waking up….

John's stern demeanor changed to alarmed instantly. He took Sam from Dean and held him close.

"What was the dream about Baby Boy?" he asked tenderly. Sam had forgotten this side of John. He was so used to his father doubling as his drill sergeant that it felt odd to receive comfort from the man. He barely remembered how his father acted before he was thirteen.

Everyone had always told John that he was an amazing father. Sure, he left his sons home alone sometimes, but he was there when they needed him.

He would sometimes tuck Sam into bed before his thirteenth birthday. He would just sit there until Sam fell asleep. Whenever Sam was having a hard time at school, or when Dean wasn't there he could always be sure of his father's support.

That had stopped as he got older, but now he had his daddy back, and he wasn't intending to lose him again.

"You died," he said in response to his father's question. "And then Dean and I couldn't stop fighting, and there were lots and _lots _of new monsters, and we didn't know how to kill them, and there were angels, and some were bad and tried to kill us, and-" he continued on, listing random aspects of his and Dean's life in the future.

Now that he looked back on his life he realized exactly how much it sounded like one long nightmare. There were very few good periods in his life. There were _no_ times when he was completely happy.

He had been happy with Jess, but he had missed his brother. His life after that was tinted with reminders of Jess and what could've been. In his life before college there was always something wrong.

Ever since he turned thirteen his father was hardly ever home. From eight to thirteen he was adjusting to hunting. Before that he was always wondering when his father and brother were going to trust him with knowledge of what they did when Dad went on a "business trip".

Sam wasn't an idiot. He didn't know why his brother and father believed they'd been able to keep the secret until he was eight. Did they think he was deaf? He heard them talking about things that shouldn't exist whenever he woke early from a nap, when he was watching TV, hell, even when he was just standing in the next room they didn't bother to lower their voices. At eight he had just gotten tired of being lied to, so he snitched his Dad's journal on a hunt he knew his dad wasn't going to need it.

By the time he had listed enough random facts from the future Dean and John were watching him with dropped jaws.

"And that's it," Sam finished, watching his family uncertainly. He hadn't mentioned Hell, had he? No, he hadn't. So why did his family look so horrified?

"My God, Sammy," Dean whispered. "No wonder you were screaming so loud."

"We'll make sure it never happens, Baby Boy," John assured him. "Dean will never hit you, and I swear on my _life_ I'll never kick you out."

So he had mentioned that? He had really just been rambling as he let his mind wander.

"You ready to go back to bed, Sammy?" Dean asked carefully.

Sam clung closer to his father, rubbing his face against John's shirt to delay having to answer. He had just gotten his father back; he had every right to be clingy.

Plus it had been forever since his dad _allowed_ him to cling. Once he hit his teenage years he had been deemed too old to sit on Daddy's lap and cuddle into bed next to his brother.

Just as Sam had opened his mouth to tell his brother that yes, he was ready to go back to bed, John laid a hand on Dean's head.

"He can stay with me tonight. I think he's running a bit of a fever," John told Dean.

Dean immediately reached up to feel Sam's forehead. He looked worried about whatever small amount of heat he felt there. Sam knew he didn't have a very high fever, if he had one at all, but he allowed himself to be coddled. It had been _so_ long since either of them had _wanted_ to coddle him.

"Hold him for a second?" John requested.

Sam found himself being transferred back into Dean's secure hold. He laid his head on Dean's shoulder and simply clung. He had missed this.

Dean was lucky he had hit his growth spurt so early. Sam hadn't hit his until well into college. Then again, he had also been cursed not to grow by a witch. He scowled, realizing he wasn't going to be able to break the curse earlier this time around because, he didn't know what had broken it the first time around.

He didn't even know why the witch had cursed him in the first place! He had been ten, and sick when it happened. His father had stayed home with him, but Dean had gotten into trouble at school that required John to go to the school.

A witch had gotten in while his father was gone. It was actually a rather odd encounter, all things considered. She had simply picked the lock on the door, screamed some words in Latin (that Sam later translated into 'stunt until fulfilled'), and then raced straight back out.

Sam had gotten out of bed and relocked the door, completely bemused and a not a little worried.

His family had arrived back just as Sam was getting back into bed. John had been dragging Dean, but when he saw Sam was out of bed he freaked and scooped Sam up. John and Dean were odd like that. Whenever Sam got sick, they both went berserk and got freakishly overprotective.

Sam had told his dad he had been in the bathroom, but he had never known if John believed him since Sam was on the wrong side of the bed for that. He had never mentioned anything, however. Sam thought maybe John believed Sam hadn't liked being alone and had been watching for them at the window.

For whatever reason, John clamed down and simply told Dean he was grounded and sent him to a corner for a "time out". Dean had been fourteen at the time, but that never seemed to matter to their father. John always said if his sons acted like children, then they could deal with being treated like children.

Sam was pulled back from his thoughts once again as his father took him back. John was now dressed in pajamas and ready for bed.

Sam fisted his hands in his father's shirt as John lay down on the bed. Dean flopped down next to the two of them, never able to spend a night away from Sam when Sam even _might_ be sick. John reached out a wound and arm around Dean's shoulders, pulling the young man closer to his side.

And so the Winchesters settled for the night; Sam on John's chest, Dean pulled into their father's side, and John buried under his children.

Only two of the three person family would be sleeping that night. The last member had a lot of planning to do.

**So, what do you think?**

**I just moved, so I haven't had a lot of time to write. We went from Wisconsin to Michigan. It was a 6 hour drive, which was about as fun as it sounds. At least we had good stations on the radio the whole way there.**

**Did you know Milwaukee and Chicago both have _amazing_ classic rock stations? It might be considered kind of weird for me to love that kind of music (considering that I'm a teenage girl who looks like the last person you would ever catch listening to that kind of thing) but my dad and I had a great time listening to it. He knows quite a lot about that kind of music. Everything from who sings the song to what year it came out to what the singers are doing now-a-days.**

**My birthday just pass**ed**! I got a bunch of supernatural DVD's, which thrilled me. I'm such a big geek for this show that I managed to get both of my parents addicted to it too. **** It's literally the **_**only**_** TV show I watch.**

**Sorry for all the rambling. **

**I am making a new tiridition! I almost always eat candy and listen to music while I write, so I have decided to put down what I'm eating and listening to. Maybe some of you will hear of new candy or songs you like that way (shrugs).**

**So I'm eating chocolate rocks, if you can believe that, and listening to "Say Goodbye" by skillet. I like most of their songs, and know a lot of them, but this is the first time I've heard this one. I don't know if I like it, actually. I think it's a but mellow for me. **I** adore youtube, where you can probably find every single song I've ever listened to,**


	3. Chapter 3 Getting Used to Being Twelve

**Disclaimer; I don't own supernatural thanks to everyone who reviewed. It means a lot.**

Chapter 3 Getting Used to Being Twelve

Sam didn't move much for the rest of the night. He simply lay on his dad's chest and listened to his heart beat. It was proof that he actually _had_ a Dad again. John was alive, and if Sam wanted to keep him that way he was going to have to do some planning.

So plan Sam did. He devised ways of finding out who certain demons had been in life and went over every fact he had ever known about any of them.

He knew Ruby had been a witch in another life, that had to narrow things down a little bit….

Supernatural

At four thirty in the morning, Sam decided he had pretended to sleep for long enough. He needed to get his body into shape before anything else. Contrary to what he always told Dean ("Sammy was a chubby twelve year old") Sam had never really been chubby, but his muscles also hadn't come naturally. He had to work out to make sure he stayed in shape.

He carefully climbed out of bed, his tiny frame having no trouble slipping away without too much disturbance to the two sleeping figures beside and under him. Sam deduced that John and Dean must have been up late for some hunt or other a couple nights in a row, or else he would never have been able to move without waking them.

He dressed quickly in an old t-shirt and some sweatpants. Same as he always wore when he worked out.

Sam wrote a note for his family and slipped out the door. He couldn't work out in their room; it was too small.

_**Supernatural**_

It was hours later that John burst out of the motel door, searching the surrounding area frantically. He relaxed slightly as he caught sight of Sam doing pushups only a few feet away.

"Sam!" he cried, running towards his son.

Sam gave a gasp of surprise and fear when he was seized around the waist and lifted into the air. It was so much more awkward when he hadn't been on his feet to begin with. He clung instinctively on to his father to be sure he wasn't going to fall. It would be a long drop for him at this height.

"Are you alright?" John questioned frantically searching Sam all over for injuries.

"I'm fine, Daddy," Sam replied slowly, unable to miss the way John tensed at the name. He suddenly remembered he had stopped calling his father "Daddy" at ten and a half. Oh well, it wasn't like he was going to stop now. He had needed his daddy for too long to risk turning the man into his dad again.

"I left you a note," he continued.

"What're you doing out here?" John inquired. His hand went to Sam's forehead, and Sam mentally groaned. If he was even the slightest bit warm his father would freak, not taking into consideration that Sam had just been working out and that would make him warmer then usual.

"I was working out!" he proclaimed like the proud twelve year old he should have been. His father had always praised him for going the extra mile when they worked out. That was before Sam turned thirteen, of course, but still….

"What!?" John thundered, something that would've scared Sam out of his wits at twelve. He tensed and whimpered, drawing closer to his father and trying to hide his face in the man's shirt. John seemed to suddenly realize how much he must have frightened his son with his tone, because his free hand started to run soothingly through Sam's hair.

"Shh, Sammy, I'm sorry I yelled ," John crooned. "I was just worried because I woke up and you weren't there. You still have a fever, Baby," he added at the end in a disapproving voice tinged with worry.

He _always _got this way when he thought Sam was sick. He would talk to Sam like he was a small child, and treat him like a toddler unable to do anything for himself. It had driven him crazy during his teenage years and led to him hiding a fair few sickness until they got so bad he couldn't deal with them on his own anymore. It was the one thing John hadn't changed when he suddenly went from "Daddy" to "Dad", and the one thing Sam could've done without.

Sam thought it might have something to do with how pathetic he got when he was really sick. He hallucinated easily and his fever climbed quickly. He could start out the day with a temperature one degree above normal, but reach a hundred and three degrees before lunch time.

"Feel fine," Sam sniffled, withdrawing his face from its hiding place.

"Yeah, well, fever says otherwise," John commented. He carried Sam back into the motel room where Dean was just beginning to stir.

"Wh't's goin' on?" Dean slurred as he started to wake up.

"Your brother decided he would be a good idea to work out this morning. Out side," John replied.

"What!?" Dean cried, shooting upright instantly. He scrambled out of bed and to John's side in a moment. "You're not supposed to go out by yourself, Sammy," he scolded.

Sam had actually forgotten that rule. No wonder his father had freaked. Being twelve again was certainly going to be a challenge. In his adult form, if he wanted to go somewhere while Dean was asleep then he would just leave a note saying where he had gone. In his child form, if he went missing for so much as a second his father and Dean were going to blow a gasket. Great.

"You need a bath," John told him.

"I'll go start one," Dean volunteered from where he was still hovering close to Sam.

"Make it cold, will you?" John requested.

Dean nodded, but Sam remembered enough of these scenes from his childhood to know he wasn't supposed to agree to that.

"No," he pleaded, squirming around in his father's arms.

"Hey, Sammy, look at me," John didn't quite order, but there was a hint of sternness in his voice. As soon as Sam stopped wriggling around looked him in the eye he started continued. "You know how bad your fevers can get. We have to take care of fevers quickly or you can get really sick. "

"But it's just from working out," Sam protested.

"You had one last night too," his father reminded him. "And besides, if it were just from working out it would've gone down by now."

Sam was surprised that he hadn't thought of that before. Maybe he _was_ getting sick. He hoped not. Besides, it was more then likely a left over side effect from the merging of his body and his soul. But he didn't want a cold bath.

"But it'll be _cold_," he complained to his dad.

He could feel John's chest rumbling as the man chuckled. "That's kind of the point, Sammy," he pointed out.

Sam pouted. Dean exited the bathroom and looked amused at Sam's expression. Sam had the childish urge to sick his tongue out at his older brother.

"It's ready," Dean declared to Sam's dread. Didn't they understand that it was _cold_?

John carried him into the bathroom and put him down on the closed toilet lid. He pulled Sam's shirt off and tested the temperature. Seemingly satisfied, he turned back to Sam.

"Are you going to keep pouting?" Dean asked. "'Cause if you are I'm gonna go get the video camera."

Sam looked up at him, and saw (to his horror) that his brother had snapped several pictures of him pouting. He knew he was cute at this age, but _really_?

"Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeean," he whined. "Stop!"

"But you look so cute," Dean teased.

"Daddy!" Sam exclaimed, turning to the man for back up.

"I don't know, Sam, he is right; you are cute," John teased. "But you can't get the video camera, Dean," he informed his older son almost regretfully. Sam knew if he were actually twelve and sick he would feel like they were picking on him and deepened his pout accordingly.

John's fingers flew across his stomach, and Sam doubled over, laughing and trying to bat his father's fingers away.

"Don't!" he squealed. "Don't, Daddy!"

"Let's get you in," John ordered.

He stood from where he had been crouching in front of Sam, and Sam waited for him to leave. His father did nothing, however, simply standing there and staring at him.

"Com'mon Sammy," John urged when Sam didn't move to strip off his pants and get in the tub.

"You're still here," Sam pointed out uncertainly. Surely they didn't expect him to bathe with them watching, did they?

"Of course we are," Dean confirmed in a puzzled voice. They did.

"I'm _twelve_, Dean," Sam proclaimed in a "duh" voice. "I can take a bath by myself."

John made an exasperated noise, and apparently got tired of waiting, because he stripped Sam's pants for him. Next thing Sam knew, he was being lifted in to the cold water of the tub wearing only boxers.

"Be a good boy, and I might let you wash yourself," John teased, gently poking Sam's noise.

Sam blinked in surprise and squeaked.

This set John and Dean laughing, probably purely at his expression.

His father dipped a cup in the water. Sam barely had time to wonder what the man was going to do with it, before he found it being tipped over his head. He spluttered and gasped, shaking his head to get the water out of his eyes.

Soon bath time escalated into a splashing fight, just as it always did. This lasted for quite a long time, but no one seemed to mind.

When Sam finally got out of the bath, John and Dean left him alone to dress; something he was infinitely grateful for. Dean had brought in a pair of pajamas at some point, though how he managed to keep them dry was anyone's guess.

As soon as Sam stepped foot out of the bathroom he was hurried back into his bed by Dean. Overprotective idiot. The older boy then went back to the kitchen to help their father with breakfast, leaving strict instructions to not move.

Sam looked around the room with curiosity. It was odd for them to stay anywhere long enough to get an apartment, and he wondered what they had been hunting that took so long.

He needed to find out what was going on before someone asked him a question he couldn't remember the answer to. He dug under his pillow for the journal he had kept ever since he was old enough to know how to write. It was a very thick book in his time, containing an entry from nearly every single day in his life.

It was difficult to never run out of pages at first, but then Bobby gave him a spell that made sure he was well supplied. It was one of the very few spells that was commonly used by hunters. Even Sam's dad had no objection to that particular spell, so Sam didn't feel guilt in the least for using it.

He flipped to the back of the book with the latest entries and quickly read through them. They had been hunting a werewolf, which explained their need for a real house. Dean was failing one of his classes, and John actually cared, something that surprised Sam. He had a lot of homework to do because he had been too busy with the hunt to have time for school….

School! He had school today! He couldn't miss school.

He jumped out of bed and rushed through the room like a whirlwind, grabbing clothes, books, and partially finished homework along the way.

He speed out of his room, hopping on one foot while he tried to put his shoe on, spare pencils clenched between his teeth, and his backpack hanging from his shoulder. His father (who's approach Sam had missed) steadied Sam just before he fell.

"What're you doing?" John inquired, looking half anxious, half amused.

"I have school today!" Sam cried, his eyes bright with worry and the fever he could feel was beginning to rise.

"Not today you don't, little boy. You're not going in with a fever," John informed him somewhat sternly. Dean (who had also somehow appeared without Sam noticing) took Sam's backpack from him and John lifted him back into his arms.

"You know the rules, Sam," Dean reproached. "A fever, no matter how small, always means no school. Your fevers get so bad so fast that you could end up in the hospital in the blink of an eye."

Sam had forgotten that. It was another reason he always attempted to keep his father from realizing he was sick.

John carried him back into his room and put him down on the bed. His father pulled the formal school shirt over his head and soon replaced it with a plain white t-shirt.

"Can do it myself," Sam complained as the shirt made it over his head.

"Yeah, 'cause you did such a good job dressing yourself for school," Dean snorted.

Sam gave him an insulted look, and then took the time to notice what he was wearing and blushed. He had forgotten to change his pants and put on mitch-matched socks.

"You're staying in bed today," John interrupted. "I don't want to see you out of bed again unless you're in the bathroom or your fever's gone down."

"And you don't get to decide if your fever's gone down," Dean added in. "You're more than likely to get up whether you've got one hundred and three or not. Wait until Dad or I tell you it's gone down enough," he instructed sternly.

Sam pouted again.

"Anyway," John began in a much more cheerful tone, "it's time for breakfast. You just stay here and Dean and I will bring it in."

Sam had forgotten about that too. He hated being stuck in bed if he was running even a slight fever, but he never minded having breakfast in bed.

He was feeling even more feverish now, however, so he didn't think he could eat much.

Breakfast was an enjoyable affair, but afterwards Dean had to go to school. It turned out that Sam wouldn't have been late if he was actually going to go to school. There were advantages to getting up at four in the morning.

Dean threw and absolute _fit_ about having to leave Sam, but John was firm in the decision that Dean needed to go. He reminded Dean that he was already failing a class, and told him that if he wasn't failing it he might have been allowed to stay home.

This, understandably, didn't make Dean any happier.

Sam was actually stunned at how much his brother resembled a two year old that hadn't gotten its way. He remembered that Dean didn't like leaving him alone while he was sick, but he didn't remember Dean throwing himself down on the floor and yelling at the top of his lungs that he wasn't leaving, and no one could make him.

He watched with a dropped jaw as Dean looked like he was about ready to start kicking the floor and throwing things any second. Maybe Dean was getting sick too?

Apparently this was the effect Dean was hoping to achieve, but he fell a little short of his goal.

John watched Dean with amusement for a few seconds, then interrupted before it could escalate like Dean obviously planned.

"I checked you for a fever this morning," he informed his son strictly, but with a hint of humor. "I know you're not getting sick so we have two choices here. One, you can get up and get ready for school like the teenager you were when you woke up this morning. Two, you can continue throwing a temper tantrum and get treated like the two year old you're acting like. What's it gonna be?" he asked.

A small silence, and then…"Damn," Dean muttered, all signs of a tantrum gone.

Sam heard John muttering something along the lines of, "New one, gotta watch out for that," as Dean waltzed towards his own room to get dressed.

Sam was floored. Dean had just thrown a _temper tantrum_ because he thought it gave him a better chance of being allowed to stay home with his sick brother who was most likely going to get grumpier and whiner as the day went on and his fever got higher. That was _definitely_ new.

Dean left the room to ready himself for school, and Sam stared after him. "Are you sure he isn't sick?" he finally asked his father, unaware of the adorably childish confusion on his face.

John full out laughed at Sam's question and the look on his baby son's face. "I'm sure, Baby," he assured after he calmed down again. He ran his hand through Sam's impossibly curly hair (it was actually just lose curls, but after being without them for so long they felt ridiculous) then sighed a little.

"I gotta go make sure your big brother's actually getting ready. Do you want to drive to school with us?" John continued.

Sam nodded feverishly. He didn't want to be left alone in the house; it seemed like every time he wasn't within eyesight of his father or big brother something was attacking him, and he just didn't have the energy to deal with that today.

"'K, I'll be right back," John stated. "Don't get out of bed," he added more sternly.

"Won't," Sam promised with a yawn. He almost wanted to go to sleep, but he was afraid of having a real nightmare this time. He hadn't had a good dream in a long long time. He actually didn't remember the last time he had had a good dream.

Sam heard his dad shouting for Dean to hurry up and quit stalling through the walls, and grinned at the little hint of familiarity. Everything had been so strange when he was twelve, and it was putting him a bit on edge. He trusted John and Dean with everything, but it was disconcerting to have them watching over him so diligently again.

Supernatural

Driving Dean to school was…..interesting. Dean kept making attempts to slow them down, but the attempts were so ridiculous that all they were doing was making Sam laugh and starting to annoy their father.

The first excuse was plausible. They were halfway out of the driveway when Dean started shouting that he had left his homework. From there it was all down hill.

By the time the got to the school, Sam was in stitches (and almost in tears) from laughing so hard and John was gritting his teeth while praying for patients and the strength to resist the urge to physically _drag_ Dean from the car.

Dean himself was wildly claiming that he was sure that his locker was haunted, but he had forgotten to bring the salt with him. According to him, the ghost only wore pink, was only visible to him, didn't leave any traces, and had cat breath.

There was a pregnant pause after Dean finished his description. He had managed to shock even Sam out of his nearly helpless state of hilarity.

The pause stretched five seconds….

Then ten…

Then fifteen…..

Then Sam couldn't hold back his laughter anymore and broke into somewhat hysterical giggles. Stupid twelve year old body _giggl__ed_ instead of chuckling.

After Dean was _finally_ safely on his way in to the school building, John started the drive back home.

Soon enough Sam was all tucked back into bed with a protective Daddy hovering over him. It was going to be a long day.

Supernatural

Hours later, Dean had returned home from school, and the three of them were sitting at a table in the living room. Dinner had been eaten, and Sam was finally deemed well enough to be allowed out of bed.

He was rather grumpy, but had felt fine when his father had let him up.

Now was a different story. He was exhausted, because apparently twelve year olds weren't made for all nighters. He had a headache and was feeling extremely feverish again, but was determined not to say anything that would land him back in that horrible bed.

He was so out of it that he was having trouble with his thus far neglected sixth grade homework. It was always hard to do his homework around hunting, doubly so for him more than anyone else, because he did all the research.

He rubbed his forehead viciously as he attempted to remember what the capital of Russia was. Why did he even need to know this shit? He had been to Stanford and they didn't care what the capital of Russia was there. And that was supposed to be one of the toughest schools around for God's sake!

He should probably stop saying things like that now, with his half-breedish status.

He pulled his wandering attention back to his assignment and nearly cried with frustration when he saw how much more work he had to do. Stupid feverish twelve year old body!

"Time for bed, Sammy," his father announced.

"No," Sam protested, not noticing his father and brother exchanging shocked looks over his head. "I gotta finish this. It's due tomorrow."

"You're not going to school tomorrow," Dean said in surprise. "Why did you let it go so long anyways? You don't normally."

"It was assigned on Monday, and Dad wanted me to do researching for hunting all week. And then last night we had the hunt…." He trailed off into silence and let his head drop onto the pointless question sheet. Suddenly Dean's first statement registered in his mind.

"Wait, why aren't I going to school?" he asked, his head popping up again.

"Because you're sick," John replied as though this should be obvious.

"Not anymore," Sam protested.

John raised his d his eyebrows. "Care to let me test that theory?" he challenged.

"No," Sam backed down, averting his eyes. He was really too tired to continue this argument.

"So it's bed time," John concluded.

Sam reluctantly nodded.

"Don't be so down about it," his father encouraged. "I'm even letting you walk on your own now!"

Sam managed a weary smile at his dad's teasing, but honestly felt like it would be really, _really_ nice to be carried to bed. He didn't know if he was going to be able to make it on his own.

"How much sleep did you get last night?" Dean questioned from where he was still seated at the table.

Sam shot him a wry smile. "You mean I was supposed to go back to sleep?" It was the reply of the almost thirty year old man trapped inside, not the innocent twelve year old that he appeared to be.

Thirty four year old Dean would've just shaken his head, lips a little tighter than normal. Sixteen year old Dean freaked, and so did their father.

"Sam!" two voices admonished at once.

"I'm alright," Sam tried to insist, even as he practically fell against the wall to remain standing.

"We can see that," John snorted.

Sam found himself being lifted into the air for what felt like the millionth time today (did he mention how much he hated being twelve and small?) but couldn't find the energy necessary to protest.

He fell asleep against his father on the way to his room, and didn't feel the man gently lay him down and tuck him in before brushing a kiss on his forehead. He also didn't see the worried frown at how high his temperature had gotten again. If he had he might have been prepared for John to be keeping a _much_ closer eye on his baby boy.

**Ok, so it's been forever. Sigh. I've had a lot of things going on in my life lately. We moved fourteen hours and three states away over the summer, and didn't have internet access when we got here. :(We've also been having computer problems for a long time, and even after we got internet, wireless wasn't working.**

**I've also started public school for the first time in my life. My writing time has been cut because of that.**

**To top everything off, I've been horribly sick. Seriously, I've missed two or three full weeks of school, and I'm still not well. I'm exhausted and dizzy. I doubt you would have wanted to read anything I wrote recently (blushes). I'm feeling somewhat better now, though not 100%.**

**I went to a Halloween party today. I was supposed to be Dorothy until about 2:30 this afternoon. At this time I discovered that my dress didn't fit me. (rolls eyes). My mom got it for me at a second hand store at the beginning of the week and I didn't bother to try it on until today.**

**So I ended up going as a fairy. We had an old pair of wings laying around, and I put them on with a prom dress. It was great. Everyone kept telling me that I was really pretty. It made me happy. **

**I'm listening to "Scar Tissue" by Red Hot Chili Peppers.**


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